


Genuflect

by blue_jack



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Be warned in advance, I did no research for this, I'll update the tags as we go along, M/M, Maybe some humiliation?, Mild BDSM, Mildly Dubious Consent, Power Dynamics, Steve is his Captain of the Guard, Tony is a king, idk - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-10
Updated: 2016-11-18
Packaged: 2018-01-18 22:16:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1444810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blue_jack/pseuds/blue_jack
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You called for me, Your Majesty,” Steve said, leather creaking as he adjusted his sword and shield in order to go down to one knee. He waited for Tony’s permission to rise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ricochet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ricochet/gifts).



> This is a gift fic for ricochet, because she leaves me the best reviews, and I love her for it. Sadly, I'm having the worst time writing right now, so it's very short, but I plan to add more! Eventually. *cough, cough* This is mostly a "I'm still alive, and I know I have other fics to update, but writing is hard" post.
> 
> For the prompt: "Tony as Lord/King and Steve as the Captain of his personal guard. Lots of space for Steve calling Tony by title, and Tony not being sure Steve is with him 'cause he wants to be, or because Tony owns his life, basically." I didn't even think to ask if she wanted a bdsm fic until I'd already made it a bdsm fic, so. Oops.
> 
> Also, I've done pretty much no research for this, so if there are any mistakes, that would be why.

It started out in jest. Something to entertain himself. Something to distract him from the demands of being king.

“You called for me, Your Majesty,” Steve said, leather creaking as he adjusted his sword and shield in order to go down to one knee. He waited for Tony’s permission to rise. 

“So I did,” Tony said and tilted his head, eyeing the man before him. Although it was the middle of the night, he hadn’t been able to sleep, hadn’t been able to find rest for several nights as a matter of fact, grief and anger and the shackles of responsibility suffocating him and keeping him awake. He’d finally thrown the covers back and decided to use the time productively, summoning Steve to discuss supply lines in the north on the chance that neighboring kingdoms saw his father’s untimely demise as a chance to attack. 

If there had been a small part of him that childishly looked forward to seeing Steve rumpled and disoriented from being pulled from his bed, vulnerable as he never was during the day, well, it was a king’s prerogative to act as he wished.

It should’ve come as no surprise, however, that Steve disappointed him, coming to him impeccably arranged, alert and composed. But then, Steve had always known how to get under his skin.

He and Steve hadn’t gotten along when his father was alive. Steve had never hidden the fact that he thought Tony should act in ways more befitting his station, and Tony had never approved of Steve’s disapproval. He got enough of that from his own father, and if His Most Royal Majesty hadn’t managed to change Tony’s behavior, Steve hadn’t had a chance in hell.

To make matters between them worse, however, Howard had been just as obvious in his admiration of Steve as he’d been in his criticism of Tony, and Tony’s resentment had spilled over onto Steve. He was capable of acknowledging the unfairness of it, even if he couldn’t stop it from happening, and he’d avoided Steve as much as he could to spare him, even if Steve had always managed to find a way to be close by, watching and waiting for him to screw up.

Avoidance was no longer an option, however, now that Steve was Captain of _his_ Guard, and that meant that it was time to move past their history and act like the adults they were.

And he would. In a minute.

He looked down at Steve’s bowed head and appreciated the sight more than he should’ve perhaps, but surely he was allowed one last moment of pettiness, and having Steve wait on his pleasure was satisfying in a way he couldn’t deny. 

“Rise,” he said at last, turning his back to him, lips twitching slightly at the annoyance Steve undoubtedly must feel, even if none of it would ever show on his face. It was a small victory, to be sure, but an enjoyable one nonetheless, made doubly so because he hadn’t had much to smile at recently. 

His amusement faded, and Tony went to his desk, where the maps were already laid out. He had more important matters to focus on.

\-----

Weeks went by before Tony had the need to call Steve to his chambers again. He was sleeping better, although it was still far from well, and he’d begun designing a new crossbow in his free time that would allow a man to shoot twice as fast as before. 

For all that he’d used the weapon in the past, however, he wasn’t a soldier, and he wanted Steve to look at the plans before he built the first working model. Tony was loathe to admit it, but there was a reason that Steve had achieved the position of Captain at so young an age, and after spending hours upon hours in his presence in preparation for possible war, he was coming to value his advice. 

He doubted there was anything that needed to be changed, but one thing his father _had_ taught him was to measure twice and cut once, and it would only take a few minutes of his time to speak with Steve versus the hours necessary to craft the bow. 

He hadn’t given any thought to the last time Steve had been to his rooms and what had occurred, but he thought of it then, when Steve went to one knee before him, his shoulders revealing a line of tension that Tony had never seen before. It kept him from uttering the, “Yes, yes, get up,” that had been on the tip of his tongue, and he stared down at Steve; blinked, but it was still there.

He hadn’t thought making Steve wait would actually bother him. Vex him, yes, that, of course, but did he really think Tony would use the privacy of his room to humiliate him? He hadn’t even kept him on the ground for very long, less than a minute in fact, less than half that. Just long enough to show that he _could_ keep him there, but that had been all.

He should probably feel guilty that it had resulted in Steve believing he would abuse his power in such a way. 

Again. 

And he did somewhat. It hadn’t meant anything after all, and he probably wouldn’t have done it if he’d known the belated reaction it would garner. 

Mostly, however, what he felt was irritation—that Steve would suspect him, that he obviously still believed Tony would act inappropriately if given half a chance, that they hadn’t moved beyond their ridiculous differences even though they worked together every day. Irritation and a perverse desire to give Steve a _reason_ to be so paranoid.

He took the few steps necessary to close the distance between them, the bottom of his sleeping gown brushing against Steve’s left boot, and Steve’s shoulders stiffened even further.

He didn’t say anything as he stood over him, let his eyes wander around the room since Steve wasn’t allowed to raise his head and wouldn’t know anyway. 

It was only when he noticed that he was coming up with ways to alter the soldiers’ armor to allow for more movement without sacrificing protection that he realized he’d let himself get distracted. He shook himself out of his reverie. He didn’t know how much time had passed, although it couldn’t have been more than a few minutes, but it was longer than he planned to let things go. 

He glanced down, mouth tightening as he tried to come up with a way to apologize to Steve without actually apologizing—except Steve didn’t look angry. Admittedly, Tony couldn’t see his face, but the lines of his body weren’t radiating hostility, and if anything, he seemed almost . . . relaxed, his shoulders loose, the normally precise posture tilted forward in what Tony was almost tempted to call a lean. What was he . . . ?

Tony moved back slowly, keeping his eyes fixed on Steve, and saw the exact moment when Steve snapped back into himself, every muscle seeming to thrum with barely-contained energy, his shoulders hunching in . . . shame? 

He wrenched his eyes away, not wanting to see it if it were true. He didn’t know why the idea of seeing Steve like that disturbed him so much, but it did, and Tony swallowed before saying, “Rise, my friend,” marvelling at how even his voice sounded, as if the past minutes hadn’t happened, as if calling Steve his friend was a commonplace occurrence. “I have something I wanted to show you that I need your help on.”

He heard nothing for a moment, and he looked back, only for Steve’s eyes to catch his, keeping him pinned. Tony tried to show calmness, tried to convey that he’d seen nothing untoward, but something must have given him away for Steve’s mouth twisted for an instant before he rose, and when he stood, he looked anywhere but at Tony.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cannot believe it's been 2 years since I started this. >_> OTL 
> 
> A few comments by places got me thinking about this again, so have a very short, very unbeta'd chapter. But even a little progress is better than none, right?

The next month was an exercise in frustration. Tony hadn’t realized how much he’d gotten used to having Steve around until he wasn’t there anymore. His network of spies had discovered information that revealed war was not as eminent as his neighbors’ posturing would suppose, and upon hearing the news, Steve had virtually disappeared overnight. 

It was not to say that he never saw his Captain but only when there were others present, vying for Tony’s attention so that he couldn’t speak privately to Steve as he wished. He’d even summoned Steve to his chambers twice more, telling him to rise immediately after he’d knelt down the first time, and then saying there was no need for him to genuflect at all the second, but Steve had become quieter with each meeting, his expression so closed off that Tony hadn’t been able to broach the topic of his withdrawal.

He didn’t even know why it mattered _what_ Steve was doing. He’d barely given a thought to the man his entire life before this, and yet somehow, in the last few months, he felt as if he could think of aught else. It was maddening, and Tony had no explanation for it. But it was true all the same. Steve had somehow become important to him, not as the Captain of his Guard but as a man, and the fact that he was hiding from Tony had him at his wit’s end.

Which was why he was resorting to drastic measures. After hours spent reliving those few moments, arguing with himself and doubting his memory and wondering if he were going to drive Steve out of the kingdom itself if he was wrong, he’d finally decided to try something altogether different.

“Come,” he said, when he heard the rap at his door, had to say it again when he realized he’d spoken too hoarsely for Steve to have heard him.

“Your Majesty,” Steve said after he’d closed the door behind him, his eyes focused just to the left of Tony’s face. He hesitated for a bare second before going down on one knee and bowing his head, and Tony let out a silent sigh.

He walked toward Steve, pausing just long enough to take in the rigid lines, before he began circling him slowly, making a point of examining him. He’d promised himself that he wouldn’t make the same mistakes, so he never took his eyes off of Steve, gave him his full attention and didn’t begrudge him any of the time that passed them by.

It was odd, but . . . he’d never given much thought to how large Steve was before. Steve was wearing his ever-present shield, which covered most of his back, but Tony could see the way his tunic hugged his arms, the way the muscles in his thigh shifted as he adjusted his weight. He’d known Steve was taller, of course, had been annoyed by the couple of inches that separated their heights when the two of them had argued and Tony would’ve enjoyed looking down at him. 

He was enjoying it now, actually. Tony frowned, and still feeling the urge to move, made another deliberate circle around Steve. It just served to make the breadth of Steve’s shoulders that much more obvious to him; let him view Steve’s thigh—uncovered by his tunic, the muscles straining against his leggings as he shifted his weight slightly—from several different angles. 

Maybe he hadn’t given this as much thought as he should have. 

It wasn’t that he’d never noticed how pleasing Steve was to the eye, but it’d been irrelevant in the face of how infuriating the man was. Steve had always managed to rile his temper in ways no one else could, and it had blinded him to Steve’s charms. Now, however … 

He stopped once again when he reached Steve’s bowed head, and he turned toward him.

Seconds passed, then minutes, and still neither he nor Steve spoke. Tony could readily admit that he had no idea what he was doing, and he alternated between worry that he was further antagonizing Steve and an odd but growing pleasure at seeing Steve at his feet.

There was something about the sight of Steve’s exposed neck in particular that drew his eye again and again. Tony couldn’t quite decide what was so appealing about it. Perhaps it was just that Steve was normally so reserved around Tony, had always maintained a certain distance between them that Tony had long ago given up on crossing. 

But now that small area of skin made Steve seemed vulnerable … touchable.

Perhaps too much so, Tony realized, although by then, it was far too late, his fingers already brushing against the strands of Steve’s hair.

He yanked his hand back just as Steve’s head snapped up, and whatever Tony had planned to say died on his lips.

He’d expected the surprise. What he hadn’t expected was the hope.

It was gone a moment later, shuttered behind a blank expression that was almost even more telling, and Tony—he had no idea what to do with his newfound knowledge. 

He waved away Steve’s stilted apology for lifting his head without permission. As if that mattered.

Tony actually had some pages of weapons designs that he’d intended to discuss with Steve since the crossbow had turned out so well, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to concentrate after what had happened, so he said, “You’re dismissed,” and watched as Steve’s whole body went taut. Damn it. He hadn’t meant to come off so abruptly. “For now. I’ll be expecting you tomorrow at the same time.”

There was no imagining Steve’s sharp intake of breath. 

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Steve said at last, and Tony felt almost guilty for sending him away, but he needed time to think. 

The hope, that had been real. But Steve couldn’t … 

Could he?

And for how long? They’d hated each other for years! Or at least, Tony had. Although maybe “hate” was too strong a word. Nonetheless, he’d barely tolerated Steve, and Steve had always acted as if the feeling was mutual.

So perhaps it wasn’t a romantic sentiment of any kind that had been the cause of his expression.

But for the life of him, Tony couldn’t think of any other reason why Steve would look at him thusly, and if it was … love … or at least some kind of infatuation—

He shied away from the thought, his heart beat racing.

And why now? What had prompted Steve to reveal himself, however accidentally? Yes, Tony had touched him, but he’d touched him before, a hand on his arm or on his back, and Steve had never seemed to care. The only thing different was—

Ahhh.


End file.
